双语·心是孤独的猎手 第一部分 6

By midsummer Singer had visitors more often than any other person in the house. From his room in the evening there was nearly always the sound of a voice.After dinner at the New York Café　he bathed and dressed himself in one of his cool wash suits and as a rule did not go out again.The room was cool and pleasant.He had an icebox in the closet where he kept bottles of cold beer and fruit drinks.He was never busy or in a hurry.And always he met his guests at the door with a welcome smile.

Mick loved to go up to Mister Singer's room. Even if he was a deaf-and-dumb mute he understood every word she said to him.Talking with him was like a game.Only there was a whole lot more to it than any game.It was like finding out new things about music.She would tell him some of her plans that she would not tell anybody else.He let her meddle with his cute little chess men.Once when she was excited and caught her shirt-tail in the electric fan he acted in such a kindly way that she was not embarrassed at all.Except for her Dad, Mister Singer was the nicest man she knew.

When Doctor Copeland wrote the note to John Singer about Augustus Benedict Mady Lewis there was a polite reply and an invitation for him to make a call when he found the opportunity. Doctor Copeland went to the back of the house and sat with Portia awhile in the kitchen.Then he climbed the stairs to the white man's room.There was truly none of the quiet insolence about this man.They had a lemonade together and the mute wrote down the answer to the questions he wished to know.This man was different from any person of the white race whom Doctor Copeland had ever encountered.Afterward he pondered about this white man a long time.Then later, inasmuch as he had been invited in a cordial manner to return, he made another visit.

Jake Blount came every week. When he walked up to Singer's room the whole stairway shook.Usually he carried a paper sack of beers.Often his voice would come out loud and angry from the room.But before he left his voice gradually quieted.When he descended the stairs he did not carry the sack of beers any longer, and he walked away thoughtfully without seeming to notice where he was going.

Even Biff Brannon came to the mute's room one night. But as he could never stay away from the restaurant for long, he left in a half-hour.

Singer was always the same to everyone. He sat in a straight chair by the window with his hands stuffed tight into his pockets, and nodded or smiled to show his guests that he understood.

If he did not have a visitor in the evening, Singer went to a late movie. He liked to sit back and watch the actors talking and walking about on the screen.He never looked at the title of a picture before going into a movie, and no matter what was showing he watched each scene with equal interest.

Then one day in July, Singer suddenly went away without warning. He left the door of his room open, and on the table in an envelope adddessed to Mrs.Kelly there were four dollars for the past week's rent.His few simple possessions were gone and the room was very clean and bare.When his visitors came and saw this empty room they went away with hurt surprise.No one could imagine why he had left like this.

Singer spent all of his summer vacation in the town where Antonapoulos was being kept in the asylum. For months he had planned this trip and imagined about each moment they would have together.Two weeks beforehand his hotel reservation had been made and for a long time he had carried his railroad ticket in an envelope in his pocket.

Antonapoulos was not changed at all. When Singer came into his room he ambled placidly to meet his friend.He was even fatter than before, but the dreamy smile on his face was just the same.Singer had some packages in his arms and the big Greek gave them his first attention.His presents were a scarlet dressing-gown, soft bedroom slippers, and two monogrammed nightshirts.Antonapoulos looked beneath all the tissue papers in the boxes very carefully.When he saw that nothing good to eat had been concealed there, he dumped the gifts disdainfully on his bed and did not bother with them any more.

The room was large and sunny. Several beds were spaced in a row together.Three old men played a game of slapjack in a corner.They did not notice Singer or Antonapoulos, and the two friends sat alone on the other side of the room.

It seemed to Singer that years had passed since they had been together. There was so much to say that his hands could not shape the signs with speed enough.His green eyes burned and sweat glittered on his forehead.The old feeling of gaiety and bliss was so quick in him again that he could not control himself.

Antonapoulos kept his dark, oily eyes on his friend and did not move. His hands fumbled languidly with the crotch of his trousers.Singer told him, among other things, about the visitors who had been coming to see him.He told his friend that they helped take his mind away from his lonesomeness.He told Antonapoulos that they were strange people and always talking—but that he liked to have them come.He drew quick sketches of Jake Blount and Mick and Doctor Copeland.Then as soon as he saw mat Antonapoulos was not interested Singer crumpled the sketches and forgot about them.When the attendant came in to say that their time was up, Singer had not finished half of the things he wanted to say.But he left the room very tired and happy.

The patients could receive their friends only on Thursday and Sunday. On the days when he could not be with Antonapoulos, Singer walked up and down in his room at the hotel.

His second visit to his friend was like the first, except that the old men in the room watched them listlessly and did not play slapjack.

After much trouble Singer obtained permission to take Antonapoulos out with him for a few hours. He planned each detail of the little excursion in advance.They drove out into the country in a taxi, and then at four-thirty they went to the dining-room at the hotel.Antonapoulos greatly enjoyed his extra meal.He ordered half the dishes on the menu and ate very greedily.But when he had finished he would not leave.He held to the table.Singer coaxed him and the cab driver wanted to use force.Antonapoulos sat stolidly and made obscene gestures when they came too close to him.At last Singer bought a bottle of whiskey from the hotel manager and lured him into the taxi again.When Singer threw the unopened bottle out of the window Antonapoulos wept with disappointment and offense.The end of their little excursion made Singer very sad.

His next visit was the last one, for his two weeks'vacation was almost over. Antonapoulos had forgotten what had happened before.They sat in their same corner of the room.The minutes slipped by quickly.Singer's hands talked desperately and his narrow face was very pale.At last it was time for him to go.He held his friend by the arm and looked into his face in the way that he used to do when they parted each day before work.Antonapoulos stared at him drowsily and did not move.Singer left the room with his hands stuffed hard into his pockets.

Soon after Singer returned to his room at the boarding-house, Mick and Jake Blount and Doctor Copeland began to come again. Each one of them wanted to know where he had been and why he had not let them know about his plans.But Singer pretended that he did not understand their questions, and his smile was inscrutable.

One by one they would come to Singer's room to spend the evening with him. The mute was always thoughtful and composed.His many-tinted gentle eyes were grave as a sorcerer's.Mick Kelly and Jake Blount and Doctor Copeland would come and talk in the silent room—for they felt that the mute would always understand whatever they wanted to say to him.And maybe even more than that.